You step through that very mirror. It shatters, a million silver shards of sharp reflection bursting out. But you know the mirror will be restored when you return.
Here's a squat black castle. A line of huge black clunky square vehicles enters it. You catch a ride on one's bumper. You jump off and head up the granite spiral stairway to the left. This place feels evil. Feels wrong.
You come to a splintery wooden door with thin wisps of blood stains on it. You don't knock you just kick it open with massive force. Inside a Time Travel Mafia meeting is underway. Mid-level wights all black with silver armor and jewelry. they scramble for their side irons, big guns designed to blow a nasty exit wound into someone's soul. You flick your wrist in a powerful motion, left to right across the room. Screaming purple flames spit and snap out. The T T M agents are coated in a sorta spiritual napalm. They scream and convulse with a sound like sexually violated dinosaurs. You watch them dissolve into a foul ashen gel.